Chapter 27: The Wolf Pack Motivation Model!

Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Wolfpack Motivation Model!

Li Tieshu cast a look of admiration at Tang Zhong and Li Yu, then roared at the few boys still trying to explain themselves, "A soldier's duty is to obey orders. Right now, I am your instructor. You are the recruits under my command. When I tell you to do something, your only answer should be—yes, Instructor. If you’re not convinced, you can apply to the school to be reassigned."

No one responded, for they knew all too well that if they did apply, the school would only side with the instructor and punish them more harshly.

"Anyone who tries to explain themselves will run five extra laps," Li Tieshu declared. "If you don’t start within three seconds, that’s another five laps."

There was a sudden scramble—the boys ran faster than rabbits.

For Tang Zhong, running was effortless. He had already run over ten laps around the track that morning. Even running another dozen laps would not be difficult for him.

But for frail Li Yu and Liang Tao, who rarely exercised, it was torture. Hua Ming had initially tried to play the hero, relying on his tall and sturdy build to run ahead of Tang Zhong.

After one lap, his bravado vanished.

By the second, his condition was no different from Li Yu and Liang Tao’s.

By the third lap, he and the others were pale and unsteady, on the verge of collapse.

"Don’t talk," Tang Zhong shouted. "Keep your breathing steady, move at a constant pace."

He was the only one on the field still able to speak clearly. Hearing his instructions, everyone made a conscious effort to comply.

But fifteen laps—a seemingly endless goal.

Tang Zhong glanced back at the scattered group behind him, knowing they would never finish like this.

With Li Tieshu’s strict military style, slacking off was out of the question.

He stopped in the middle of the track and called out, "Everyone stop! Stop!"

Liang Tao, Hua Ming, and Li Yu halted beside him, and the other punished boys followed suit.

Gasping for breath, they wanted nothing more than to collapse onto the grass and never get up—

"No sitting," Tang Zhong shouted. "No one sits."

Hearing this, the boys who were about to sit forced themselves to straighten their legs.

"If you sit, you won’t be able to get up," Tang Zhong said. "Right now, we are a team. Let me reorganize your order—listen for my commands as we move forward. Hua Ming, you’re at the front. Li Yu, follow Hua Ming. Liang Tao third, you’re fourth—"

He didn’t know some of their names, but he arranged them based on strengths and previous performance.

Tang Zhong stood at the rear, imitating the instructor’s tone as he shouted, "Now, listen for my command—ready, run."

Hua Ming, leading the pack, started off first. He was exhausted, but his large frame meant he had a robust physique and untapped strength. He could act as the locomotive.

Li Yu was physically the weakest, but with Hua Ming leading and others pushing from behind, he had no choice but to run forward by sheer force of habit.

Liang Tao’s stamina was average, but his pride was strong. With his dormmates ahead, he was determined not to fall behind—

The others were similarly arranged in alternating strong and weak positions. Most importantly, Tang Zhong had turned a scattered, disorganized group into a unified team.

He gave them a goal, let them follow the strong. He gave them belief, taught them to draw strength from one another.

It was a lesson he’d learned in Hate Mountain Prison—a group motivation model called “wolfpack.”

Tang Zhong followed at the back, shouting out cadence, "One-two-three-four, two-two-three-four, three-two-three-four, four-two-three-four—"

Five laps—

Ten laps—

Fifteen laps—

On the football field, several girls’ classes were also in military training. At first, they paid little attention to the group punished by the instructor.

But as the group stubbornly completed their tenth, eleventh, and more laps—so many that the girls lost count—they were astonished—

"Wow, how can these guys run so much? How many laps is that?"

"Exactly. It’s dizzying—though there are a couple of handsome guys in there—"

"The last guy is amazing, still calling out cadence after all those laps—"

That day, they remembered two handsome boys and the cadence of a man echoing lap after lap.

Sixteen laps, seventeen, eighteen—

"Nineteenth lap," Tang Zhong cried out, his voice full of excitement. "One more lap—one-two-three-four, two-two-three-four—"

In truth, Tang Zhong, Hua Ming, Liang Tao, and Li Yu were only punished with fifteen laps. They had already fulfilled the instructor’s requirement.

But Tang Zhong never called for a stop, and the others, lost in routine and exhaustion, kept running—

"Stop—" Tang Zhong shouted.

The group, following the cadence, halted abruptly; two nearly collapsed to the ground.

Tang Zhong moved quickly, rushing to help them up.

"I know you’re exhausted," he shouted. "But no matter how tired you are, you mustn’t fall now—you’ve finished twenty laps. If you can endure twenty, can’t you stand a little longer? I know you can."

"I—" Hua Ming opened his mouth, his throat burning, his words rough. "I’m—still fine."

"We can hold on," someone whispered, barely audible.

"Instructor, call cadence for us again—"

"One-two-three-four, two-two-three-four—"

Tang Zhong resumed calling cadence, deliberately slowing his rhythm. He no longer pushed them to run, only to walk in place.

Li Tieshu stood quietly by the iron fence between the football and basketball fields, watching the tall, thin, bespectacled boy who had stepped in for him.

"Not bad," he said with a smile on his dark face.

Thanks to Tang Zhong’s participation and guidance, all the students had run twenty laps around the track—something they’d thought impossible.

And now, they were still standing, rather than lying on the ground like dead dogs, thanks to Tang Zhong’s scientific direction and relentless encouragement.

Though they could barely speak, the look in their eyes toward Tang Zhong said everything: utter admiration.

Even Liang Tao’s gaze had shifted. He remembered the revenge plot he and Secretary Zhao had devised—to isolate Tang Zhong, trample him underfoot so he’d never raise his head again—

Was such a person really someone he could keep down?

"What are you doing?" Li Tieshu’s voice startled them from behind. "You think twenty laps is the end? This was just your punishment. Fall in! Join your class for regular training."

"Yes, Instructor," Tang Zhong replied loudly.

The others gave weak responses and shuffled toward their class formation.

"My legs are broken," someone groaned.

"My bones are falling apart."

"I’d better skip lunch—whatever I eat, I’ll just throw it up—"

On the first day of training, the air was filled with complaints. Everyone looked exhausted, but there was still a freshness on their faces.

In a couple of days, when that freshness faded and every morning brought pain, that would be the hardest part.

Tang Zhong didn’t find the military training especially tough; acting exhausted to fit in was the real challenge.

Just as he was about to head to the cafeteria with Hua Ming and the others, his phone rang in his pocket.

He glanced at the caller ID—Bai Su’s number.

Only Bai Su, A-Ken, and a few others knew this number. Lin Huiyin and Zhang Hepburn wouldn’t bother to memorize it.

Tang Zhong moved to a quiet corner and answered, "What is it?"

"Tang Zhong, there’s an important event tonight. You need to attend. Take a cab to the villa first—A-Ken will help you with your look," Bai Su said.

Tang Zhong frowned. "Now?"

"Now," Bai Su replied.

(P.S.: Let us charge forward with wild, wolfish ferocity!)